


His Eve

by dciphoenix



Category: Resident Evil
Genre: F/M, Resident Evil 5 Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 04:41:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3314360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dciphoenix/pseuds/dciphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: She's young and beautiful; he can easily overlook that. But in the end, in the coming of his new world. He will be needing a Queen, a Goddess when all pawns eventually fall. Jill Valentine is his creation. She is his Eve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Eve

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Resident Evil, it's characters, setting etc. I just want to write fan-fiction including them.
> 
> A/N: I hope you like this, that is all. Oh, and if you could review, too! :) They may seem a little OOC but I'm unsure as this never went on... on did it?!

Wesker saved her. He had mended back her broken bones, restored the blood she'd lost and then let his princess sleep.

But sooner or later, everyone has to wake up.

He'd half carried, half dragged her body from the circular room, where she slept, calmly, chemically. And put her into the medical room where he had all the necessary tools to awaken her and keep her in that state.

Injecting her heart with adrenaline, he had fixed her up to a respirator and ECG machine. His intention was spurred on with the rhythmic beeps breaking the silence. Wesker observed his sleeping beauty and the wires trailing around her form. Making her appear to be a fly in a spider's web. Jill had fractured her collarbone, broken both arms, shattered both her left kneecap, leg and managed to deal out herself a broken nose in the process of sacrificing herself to kill him back in the Spencer Mansion. Her broken body had begun to be pulled into the open maw of the sea, but he intervened, bunched his hands in her clothes and dragged her out of the salty water. Not wasting any time, he had lifted and carried her, bridal style away from the Mansion and to safety. Intending on using his enemies' friend against him.

Wesker had saved her. Fixed her up and put her to sleep as he found something lurking, deep within her DNA. Antibodies. Thousands of them from the dormant T-virus back in Raccoon City. Not only can he use her body as a physical weapon against the world, he can use her body's very essence to weave himself a new BOW.

He's mesmerised by her peace.

So he turns voyeur. Her skin is white, no longer the peach toned flesh Chris adored. Chris... he's half the reason he hadn't chose to leave her behind. Even Jill's hair, stripped of its brunette colour and then reborn a pale blonde. Wesker had harvested every antibody from her to craft it with Uroburos. Together, it was no longer as poisonous. But not only did he strip her of them. He had taken everything from her, leaving a mended yet mentally broken simpering young woman in his wake. With her colouring, now freakishly much like his own. He had poured himself into her shell, not allowing any room for anything else. Fitting her body into a black battle-suit, completing his image, he allowed her body to move with no restrictions as he trained her.

She was weak when she had awakened, claw like hands grabbed for something solid. He'd infected her mind with false facts, hopes and wants. Jill latched herself onto him, arms wound around his neck as he tugged his head away and felt her shivering, mumbling thanks into his collar of distorted events. He saved her from the fall. How quaint.

Many months went by, many years.

Self defence, attack, gun control – not like she needs any more help, but he likes having her body topped up with P-30 serum and a gun thrust in her hand – she learned, she was compliant. Placing his right hand to her toned stomach, his left covering her hand gripping her gun. Her body was pressed, effortlessly against his own. All six foot three inches of mutated height must have be overpowering to her as he smirked into her ear. "Fire."

She exhales sharply as she saw the bullet impale the bull's eye target right in the middle.

"Good girl." Positive reinforcement, it couldn't hurt. A combined achievement. They were lethal together. Beautiful.

Yet, flawed. "Uh, oh God, what-" Jill shook the gun out of her hand as if it was a poisonous snake. She whirled around, angry and confused. Her eyes met with those of the true snake. Jill spat his name. "Wesker! What are you doing? Where am..." She panted, her eyes wide in horror as he watched her, waiting to pounce.

Wesker reached into his pocket, withdrew a vial of red fluid and injected her straight into the main artery within her neck. All the liquid was drained into her while her body became stiff, emotionless once more. He then replaced his hands on her slim form. Putting a pistol in her small hand. Something needs to be done about the reapplication of dosages.

He found a way to ensure her ultimate compliance. The P-30 device.

She's the only visual piece of beauty in his world of monsters. Her long, white hair and flawless white skin just begs for chaos. How else can you see beauty without it? The only reason he wants to reach out and touch it, touch her is because it's been so long. Excella can't provoke him the way Jillian can. Her fighting ability, new beauty and intelligence are enhanced thanks to him. But she had them anyway, he only eased them to bubble to the surface, bigger and better. Each time he touched her, when her blue, unaffected eyes looked into his own – even though hidden by his shades – he felt a tug somewhere. Somewhere that hadn't worked in years. It's not love, it's not even lust...

Jill lies on the steel metal bed. Her beauty superseding everything in the room, when he moves into the cold, dull and blueish lit medical room. His eyes were immediately drawn to her sleeping figure. She would be waking soon, the slumber he placed her in was only a precautionary measure so Jill wouldn't wake too soon after the operation. The placing of the P-30 device on her chest had been done with her under full anaesthetic. Wesker ran a gloved hand over her chest. The device looked garish and grotesque against her flawless skin. Bulbous, red veins stood to attention underneath his fingers as the prongs of the P-30 device were sank fairly deep within her body so he would be able to administer hourly injections from the device without having to hold her down.

The Progenitor Virus with an underlying mind controlling substance gave birth to the P-30 drug and device.

It gave birth to Jill Valentine 2.0.

The next time he visits her cell, she's sat awaiting him. His orders. "Jillian, it's good to see you're awake. As you can probably feel, the P-30 device had been attached to your body." He spoke, loudly, cleanly and slowly.

Jill wrapped one hand around her naked body, she would have been bare to him if she didn't pull up the white medical sheet that one would expect a corpse to be covered with inside a morgue. She covered her breasts with her hand and the sheet, though her toned thighs and arms escaped the covering.

Blue eyes are closed. Hidden red ones are wandering over her body.

The device is also exposed, the contrast of glass, metal, the fluid inside and her skin still appalling provocation.

The air is cold, freezing.

But all she feels, if anything, is his gaze.

"Are you in pain?"

She shakes her head, sending her blond bangs dancing.

"Can you speak?"

"Yes." It's barely a whisper, full of sorrow, confusion.

"My dear Jillian, I have harvested everything of any use from you body. Perfect as it is, I only have use for so much." He purred, his voice flavoured of something her ears did not want to hear. "Stand." Wesker ordered, the little emotion in his voice is gone.

She did as he asked, her eyes, now open have come accustomed to the black light and harsh chill in the air. The sheet fell away like a feather as she moved to stand, her feet steady on the cold floor. Jill gave herself a small push in Wesker's direction as she stood, directly in front of him.

"Beautiful. Perfect." Wesker interjected. Seeming to be making a speech rather than speaking to the naked woman in front of him. She could feel the rise and fall of his fingers as they travelled over her, outlining her body. He ran his gloved hand from her cheek and shoulder, brushing the long and free, white locks of hair from her skin. Jill's pale sensitive flesh covering her face was made apparent by his touch.

Jill shivered at his touch, but she mentally told herself it was only the cold air sending her flesh breaking out in goose bumps. "You liked that, didn't you?" Wesker purred again, drawing out the last word as he moved his middle finger down her spine. He circled Jill's cold and still form as he tried and failed to find any imperfection on her surface tissue. He found none and for once, he was pleased at not finding what he wanted.

No! Oh, god, say no! The voice inside her head shouted at her, but the P-30 had other ideas. "Yes..." Jill breathed, soft enough to be unheard. But of course, Wesker heard her. The man's got the hearing similar to as that of a bat.

He chuckled.

Bastard! How he can enjoy seeing her suffer, the inner battle between her controlled mind and her uncontrolled was simple entertainment for him. But this was Albert Wesker she was watching, watching her. He's sick in the head and breeds monsters, viruses the very things that children had nightmares about. Hitler would even fear him. "My pet," his voice is once again thick of a certain something that made her fear him all the more. He wasn't just enjoying watching her suffer, he was enjoying watching her. "I bred you to fight, not to want. Nor to love." Wesker's British voice is sharp as a knife.

"I understand." Her words were forced out of her mouth quicker than Jill could realise she was saying them.

Suddenly, her lungs are incapable of taking in oxygen, her skin pricked with heat and was covered with a material unknown to her and her body. Jill had seconds to open her eyes up to her attacker to see Wesker's own hidden eyes and his leather-clad body crushed into her own. He'd wrapped his hand around her throat and had shoved her naked body into the wall, inches from the ground and decided to keep her there. Lightening flashed behind her eyes as she gasped for air.

"I sure hope you do." Wesker snarled and roughly pushed her body further into the frozen, smooth metal wall. Then, without warning, he took his hand away and dropped her on her feet in the process. The day, night – or whatever it was – took a turn for the worse as he forced his thin, Germanic lips on her own.

Immediately, her hands came up to protest, to push him away. But once again, he was far too strong for her. Instead, her hands grasped the silky, leather-like material of his shirt. Her soft, chapped lips were no match for his own as he shoved his tongue into her mouth. Wesker brought his hands to her cheeks, trapping her face in his hands and her body between the wall and himself.

The already noticeable goose skin all over her flesh stood more to attention as something of his pressed against her followed suit. Her eyes were tightly shut as he had his wicked way with her. Who knew the God of darkness could violate his creation this way? She moaned into his mouth, her body in bitter sweet pleasure. Though she quickly cringed at her audible moan.

Wesker chuckled. He was all teeth and tongue in seconds, his hands exploring, mapping out every inch of her once dying body as he licked and sucked at her mouth. Nothing went untouched...

He snatched himself from her and pushed her body away from himself as if she was the one whom had violated him. But she did, she violated him with her pheromones and sickly human feelings.

Days, if not weeks later. It was all a blur to her and her drug controlled mind.

She had her back to him, her long blonde hair in a ponytail and her body encased in a skin tight purple and black leather battle-suit. She'll only live once. Fists at the ready after her first physical encounter with Redfield and his new African partner. She had scattered through them, landing low and flying kicks, palms jutting out and near enough flooring them both before he had intervened.

He could've easily watched her play and devour her prey if it wasn't for that Redfield and his over-active trigger finger.

Her mask is gone, her identity revealed.

A bow in her direction.

Time to watch his creation fulfil her destiny.


End file.
